Today
by Ashley A
Summary: Set directly after "Gingerbread", season three. Buffy and Angel have a moment alone; can they forget their past? PG-13 for language and sexual situations


             Author's note:  Set directly after season three ep "Gingerbread."

            Thanks for reading and reviewing me.

            Constructive criticism is always welcome.

            Disclaimer:  I own no one, and no Copyright infringement is ever intended.

            Enjoy.

            Buffy.

            I snuggle into his arms, and watch the roaring fire in front of us.  The smell of brewing coffee hits my nostrils, and I sigh in contentment.

            He chuckles slightly, and I smile in return. 

            I close my eyes, and listen to the rustle of the turning pages of his book, as he reads while I rest.

            This is nice; and a rare occurance.  We don't get much down time, and especially just to have a whole weekend with nothing going on.  Giles is out at some librarian's conference for the school, and Willow and Xander are making with the major studies.  Everybody's kind of on hold.  It's weird.

            The events of last week still have me a little rattled; seeing mom like that was a head trip I so do not want to explore.  Worse than the whole band candy thing.  Ewwwww.  Major ewwww.

            I shudder slightly, and he tilts his head down, eyes meeting mine.  

            "Everything okay?" he asks softly, as if not wanting to spoil the mood we've created here.

            "Oh, fine," I answer, "just some unwanted memories creeping up on me.  They have a way of doing that sometimes."

            He puts his book down, and kisses my forehead gently.  "They do.  But don't let them take over you, Buffy.  They're easy to dredge up, but a lot harder to let go of."

            "Says the old man with lots of baggage," I quip, and he swats my arm.  "Old man, huh?"

            "The, um, really sexy old man, that has absolutely no wrinkles whatsoever," I backpeddle, and he laughs, a full blown guffaw that makes me grin as well.  He should do that more often.

            "Nice save, Buffy."

            I shrug.  "Well, I am the master of foot in mouth syndrome.  So naturally I have to have a good defense when it rears its ugly head."

            He shakes his head, and picks up his book.  A slight dinging sound is heard from the kitchen.

            "Coffee's ready," he says, and gets up, setting his book on the floor again.  "I'll get it."

            "Extra milky, Angel," I yell after him, and he nods.  "I know."

            I stare at the fire again, and bask in it's warmth and the presence of my friend, my love, my Angel.  We have such a shitty past, and well, not the most promising of futures, but on nights like this, I can mostly forget all of that stuff, and just be content to be with him.  He's like a fleece blanket on a freezing cold night; just the right thing to make you feel human again.

            The nights that we've spent together this year have been strained at best.  Since coming back from…wherever he had been, Angel and I have tried to stay apart, tried to be just friends, and tried desperately not to be so attracted to one another.  

            After the snow, things changed completely.

            He's a lot more open with me now, and I am with him as well.

            We know only too well that we can't have what we both really want, but it's too painful to be apart.  

            And Spike had been right.  We'll never be friends.  But our connection is too strong to deny.  And even if I never get to hold him in my arms, even if I never get to make love to him or take him for walks on the beach, even if we don't have a family…whoa, need to stop with those thoughts.

            Even if…

            I still love him.  I always will.  He's the one who gets me.  He gets me exactly as I am, and he loves me back.  He loves my slayer self, my girly girl self, and my Buffy self.  The whole package.  That's really rare in life.  So it's worth it to me if we can't ever be intimate the way we wanna be.  He's worth that.  Just to have him with me.  That's all I need.

            I look around as Angel makes the coffee in the kitchen; he's humming some tuneless ditty that sounds like an off key 'Danny Boy'.  Hmmm.  Does that mean he's happy or sad?  Dang it I really hate that song.

            I pick up his book to see what he's been reading.  

            Huh.  Shakespeare.  Much Ado About Nothing. 

            He comes back in the room, carrying a tray with the coffee and milk and sugar on it.  He knows he never puts enough sugar in mine.  I like it practically christalized.

            "Good play?" I ask, and he gapes at me as if I've grown two heads.

            "You've never read it?" he asks, mouth open and eyes wide in shock.

            "No.  There's been a little something in the way, and it's called gee I have a life," I answer a bit snappishly.  I don't really have time for reading.  Come to think of it, we might have read that last year in English, but I'm not really sure.

            He sets the tray down next to me, and sits.

            "I'm sorry, Buffy.  It's just one of my favorites; I know you would like it as well."

            I'm instantly contrite, and tug his hand to my lips, and place a small kiss there.

            "No, I'm sorry.  I'm just a little jumpy.  Can I have some more caffeine now?"

            He smiles, and hands me my cup, which is in a giant latte mug with pigs on it.  I laugh at the sight of it.

            "Where in the world…no let me guess, you went to the store today because you didn't have any mugs."

            He shrugs sheepishly.  "I didn't want you to drink out of one of mine."

            "Why, you didn't want my germs?  Oh, wait, you mean one of yours that you drink blood out of…"

            He nods, embarassed.

            My cheeks flame red, and I say, "Sorry," in a small voice.

            He sighs.  "We're saying that a lot, lately."

            I get up off the blanket we have spread on the floor, and walk aimlessly through the cavernous mansion.  For a big place it seems really small right now.  His presence is almost too much for me.

            "Angel…maybe this wasn't such a good idea," I say, and instantly he's behind me, turning me in his arms to face him.

            "Why?"

            "Because," I say, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear so I won't have to look into his eyes.

            "We have this problem being together without one of us getting our feelings hurt.  And I'm really tired of the words 'angel' and 'buffy' and 'hurt' going hand in hand."

            He tilts my chin up with his finger and touches his forehead to mine.

            "I know what you're getting at," he whispers, and chills whip up and down my spine at the huskiness in his voice.

            "You're trying to push me away.  I don't want to be pushed, Buffy.  Nothing you ever say or do will make me stop loving you.  Ever.  I should have proved that to you time and again.  I don't know what else to tell you," he finishes miserably, and back away from me.

            Tears spring unbidden to my eyes at the hurt in his voice.  God!  This is exactly what I didn't want to have happen.

            "I better go," I whisper, knowing that if I raise my voice the tears quivering on the ends of my lashes will fall.  He will not see me cry again.

            "Wait!  Please," he begs, and I turn, my bag in my hand, and as I spin something falls out of it.  One of my spiral bound notebooks. The one that has Angel's name written all over it.

            He approaches me silently, and picks it up.  Looks at it silently before handing it back to me.

            I take it, and put it back in my backpack, no words passing between us.

            "I love you," he tells me quietly.

            One sob escapes my lips, and I nod.

            "I know…and that's the problem," I answer before I bolt away from his hurt and beautiful face.

**********************************************************************

            I pace in front of the mansion the next night, debating whether or not to go in and see him.

            I know he's there; I can feel him.  Which means he can feel me too.

            I had so thought that this weekend would be good for us, that the alone time away from the others and away from the Hellmouthy pressures would put a better spin on our relationship.

            Not looking that way now.

            The door opens as I am chewing on my bottom lip, and he says, "Come in, Buffy."

            I gulp silently, and follow him inside.

            I can smell the coffee before I enter the living room, and can hear the fire before I see it.

            Entering the large room, I barely supress a gasp.

            The fire's crackling, the coffee's on, and there's a huge television set up in the corner, with a brand spanking new dvd player sitting on top of it.  Those things cost a fortune!

            "Angel, what is this?"

            "I thought we would watch a movie.  And have the coffee we didn't get to last night," he says, and my heart aches a bit at his words.

            "But I…" I start, and he's suddenly next to me, his arms around me, eyes boring into mine.

            "Forget yesterday.  Just forget it.  Today is a new day.  And we're two good friends spending quality time together.  Just trust me.  Today is the only time in the world.  There's no tomorrow, no last night, no last summer, no next Christmas.  There's only you, and me, and the movie, and the coffee, and now.  Okay?" he murmurs the last word, and I can only nod, tears threatening me again.

            "Okay," I answer shakily, and his eyes blink rapidly, as if trying to clear up his own tears.  I wrap my arms about his waist, and rest my head in the crook of his neck, where it always feels natural to do so.

            He pulls me closer and sighs a little, his uneccessary breath ruffling my hair.

            "Today," I say, and I feel him smile against the top of my head.

            "Yep."

            I raise my head from his neck, and place a light kiss on his jaw.  He jumps a little, and looks down at me.

            "Good friends," I say, "have certain things they can do with one another."

            He cocks an eyebrow.  "Such as?"

            "Such as show their love and appreciation for one another," I answer, and shyly plant my lips on the corner of his mouth.

            He turns his head so our lips meet, and a _zip! _shoots through me.

            He kisses me gently at first, lips questing and probing mine, as if asking permission to be there.

            I sigh a breathy version of his name, and his tongue dips into my mouth, dancing with mine.  He wraps a hand in my hair, and drags me closer to him, crushing my breasts against his chest.

            Which feels a lot better than you might imagine.

            "Mphffff," I get out, and he answers by nipping at my upper lip, on that place right below my nose, then begins sucking on it.

            I moan; I can't help it.  He feels like home, and heaven, and everything I've ever wanted but didn't get rolled into one incredibly arousing package.

            I run my hands up his muscular back, trying to memorize the feel of each bone and sinew, just in case this is the last time I ever get to be this close to him.

            A weird rumbly sound vibrates his chest, and another jolt of nerves races through my body.

            His mouth releases mine, and dips to nuzzle my neck, and he kisses me like a staving man, like a man who's life depends on my flesh.

            Wet, sucking kisses.  Oh, I think…wait, my knees aren't gonna hold me…

            I collapse to the floor, and he braces my fall, laying me out on the blanket he has spread there.

            "What about the movie," I barely get out, and he speaks.  

            "Later."

            Wet heat invades my entire being as his lips decend upon mine again.  I want for nothing; everything I have ever desired is here in my arms.

            I sink my hands into his hair, gently tugging on it as he rains little kisses on my face.

            "A-Angel," I gasp out.

            'Uh huh?" he says through a mouthful of Buffy neck.

            "Whoa, stud.  Take a breather," I say, and roll him to my side, where he gazes at me through half lidded and desire filled eyes.

            "What do you think you are, my **best **friend?" I say shakily, and he laughs a little.

            "I- I'll get that coffee," he says, and rolls over to a standing position.

            "Good idea," I mumur, and sit up myself.  My hair is sticking up like a screeching cat, and I know my lipstick is completely gone.  Oh well.

            A few minutes later, he's back with the drinks and I've composed myself.  Hair fixed, shirt rebuttoned (oh my god how did that happen?) and me sitting primly on the couch in front of the giant new tv.

            "Nice tv, by the way," I tell him, and he nods, setting the coffee down and handing me my cup and the extra sugar container.

            "I didn't have one, so I figured it was time," he says, and sits next to me, grabbing his own cup and the remote.

            A click and the tv and dvd player whir to life, and I jump up and head toward the wall by the front door.

            "Where are you going?" he asks, alarmed.

            "The lights, dufus, can't be a movie experience with the lights on," I say, dousing the lights and plopping back onto the couch, taking a swig of my coffee.  Seriously, the man makes a good cup of joe.

            The music swells, and the movie starts.

            Oh, damn.

            It's Kenneth Branaghs' version of Much Ado.  I remember Willow talking about him, and how good his Shakespeare movies were.  I've only ever seen that one he was in with that English chick, the one about past lives.  Oh, and it was in black and white.  I'm still not sure what the ending was exactly.

            He watches me from the corner of his eye as the movie progresses.

            And I must admit, it's a really good movie.  I laugh at all the right parts, at Beatrice and Benedick's silly attempts to win one another over, cry when Hero is falsely accused of cheating on her fiance, Men! and squeal in delight at the end when everything turns out perfectly.

*******************************************************************************

             Angel clicks the tv off after the last credit rolls, and I sigh, and get up and turn the lights back on.

            I circle around to face him, and he's playing with his hands, a look of trepidation on his face.

            "It was beautiful.  Thank you," I tell him, and a smile lights him up.  

            "I was hoping you would like it," he says, "although this version is not exactly right…" he trails off as I pick my backpack up off the ground, and put my jacket back on.

            "You're leaving?" he asks in a quiet voice.

            "I should, Angel.  It's late, and I do need to study some this weekend," I say, and walk toward the door.

            He opens it for me, and I step out onto the porch, the moon huge and fat over our heads.

            "I- thank you, Angel.  It was wonderful."

            He runs a hand up my arm lightly, and I shiver.  "Today," he says.

            I nod.  "Today."

            He watches as I walk down the street, and I never hear the door close.

            Today was a good day.  And the rest of them will be as well.

            A girl can only hope.

~Fin.


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